


Last (one night) Stand

by tsurai



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pro-Mage Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 09:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20673434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsurai/pseuds/tsurai
Summary: Cullen swallows, throat clicking in the hush that falls over them. “Is it done?”A beat. Hawke sighs, long and low. “The charges are set.”





	Last (one night) Stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reavv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reavv/gifts).

> for reavv, who provided [this NSFW link](https://twitter.com/Orientalld/status/1158061188548354048) and a dare

Cullen flinches as the door to his quarters slams open, then shut again, the invader making no effort to conceal himself. Still, Cullen makes no move to turn away from the barred window, small and high above his head. 

He looks up into that sliver of slate-grey sky and thinks again that most of the mages he knows have peered only at this small piece, often for decades. How many of his charges will die never again seeing beyond these grey slivers, never knowing freedom, or safety, or the wonder of the Maker’s larger world. 

How he has the power to do something about it now, if only he can keep his resolve.

In Knight-Captain Rutherford’s cramped but private quarters, a man of Hawke’s size makes the room seem even smaller than normal. No, Hawke has no need for stealth. If his fellow Templars know enough to Dispel the mage’s muffling wards, it will already be far too late to worry about any listening ears. 

Cullen swallows, throat clicking in the hush that falls over them. “Is it done?” 

A beat. Hawke sighs, long and low. “The charges are set.” His tone is so tired; Cullen finally finds the courage to turn. 

Maker, but the man looks wrecked. His crow’s feet look carved into his face for all the dirt on it, and if he isn’t mistaken, Hawke also has a lot more grey hair than the last time Cullen took note- no, that’s not true. He needs to stop lying, especially to himself.

Cullen notices everything about Hawke. Including the way his shoulders sag the longer the Templar continues to look without speaking. He steps forward, raising a hand to- to do something. 

“I told you, I am sure about this. Stop looking like you expect me to go shouting your secrets from the ramparts.” His hand hovers another awkward second before he drops it, but Hawke doesn’t so much as twitch, still looking at him.

His lips tilt up in a tiny, reluctant smile, and something in Cullen shudders with relief.

“Not from the ramparts, maybe,” Hawke says, his tone trying for jesting but falling far short. Cullen opens his mouth, but the mage holds up a hand. “Don’t. I _ know _you’re with us. I just. Things are so different, but this is still the same. It has to happen, but part of me is still surprised that you agreed not to betray us in the first place, let alone help.” 

The words are like a dagger to the heart. “You still don’t trust me,” Cullen whispers, shuddering.

He takes a step back, bleeding in every sense but physical. He thought Hawke was different now, that the years spanning between this time’s Hawke and the man standing in front of him had shown Hawke something in Cullen that could be saved, that could be _ good _. 

But Hawke had been lying. He had to be, if the man still couldn’t see...

“No, no, hey-” 

A calloused, dirty palm cups against his cheek as he tries to turn away, and though his skin burns like fire Cullen can’t tear himself from the touch, can do nothing but freeze when Hawke moves close and back into his line of sight. Hawke looks at him with eyes that promise something like sorrow.

“Hey, Cullen. I do trust you, I _ do_.” Hawke bites his lip and Cullen’s eyes fix on it against his will. “Anders said I probably trust you too much, actually.”

The Templar straightens, looks away, straining not to snarl. “Oh, well if _ Anders _ says-”

“Fuck, okay that’s not what I meant.” Hawke’s thumb traces along his cheekbone and Cullen falls quiet again. “It’s just that he pointed out to me something that…well, something I should’ve seen a long time ago.” 

Hawke’s hand is still on his face. 

“I trust you. Out of everyone in this Maker-forsaken city, you’re the one I go to when it gets to be too much. You’ve kept my secrets, helped the mage underground. You’ve changed so much- fuck, I’m still not saying it right.” A puff of air that makes his eyes flutter. “Cullen, I think I’m in love-”

Cullen doesn’t let him finish, hooking his hand into the neck of his ridiculous Champion’s armor and hauling Hawke into a heated kiss. 

To be fair to the man, he only freezes for half a breath before he’s kissing back, sliding his hand from Cullen’s cheek to cup the back of his head. Cullen winces as they move closer simultaneously and their armor clanks loud enough to echo in the tiny room, breaking off the kiss prematurely. Damn their armor; he’d forgotten how hard it was to navigate two bodies wearing it. 

Hawke seems to have the same thought, because he’s already scrabbling at the buckle of his breast plate without looking away from Cullen. Pupils blown wide, Hawke’s dark eyes catch him off guard for the sheer heat in them.

Cullen licks his lips, tastes the dirt and stink of Darktown and a hint of lyrium and _ Hawke_. 

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I love you back.”

He watches Hawke swallow, tracking the bob of his throat and the way his mouth parts but no sound escapes. And then he’s on Cullen again, his hands jerky with fast, desperate movement. His greaves fall to the floor, and when his fingers start picking at the ties to the breastplate Cullen hadn’t yet taken off, his brain catches up and he pulls Hawke’s hands away. 

Hawke whines in protest, pressing kisses first to the corner of his mouth then across his cheek.

Cullen’s breath catches in his throat as Hawke nips hard, just below his ear. His breastplate clatters to the ground, but it doesn’t matter, not right now; now with mail and gambeson being shucked off. Not with Hawke pressing him back a step, then another until Cullen runs into his tiny desk, piled high with reports that will never be read. With half a thought he shoves them aside, all his attention focused on Hawke’s mouth coming back down to meet him, on the way Hawke’s trousers can’t conceal his thickening cock pressed against his hip. 

Cullen makes a noise–_not _a whimper–into the mage’s mouth, and he can feel Hawke’s smirk in the curl of his lips. Cullen refrains from biting him, if only because he can feel the tremor of Hawke’s hands, the way he heaves a sharp breath when Cullen pulls him in closer with one ankle hooking behinds his and a hand travelling up the expanse of his back under Hawke’s shirt.

On a hunch, Cullen curls his fingers in a drags his nails gently down the length of his spine. The way Hawke groans and breaks away to press his face into Cullen’s shoulder sends a bloom of anticipation unfurling in his stomach. He bites his lip. One night, one night and this man _ loves him_. He takes a breath, tilts his head to rasp into Hawke’s ear.

“I want you to fuck me.” 

Heart hammering, he barely dares to breathe when Hawke stills against him. Thankfully, he has only the barest moment of regret for pushing too hard before Hawke pulls away and drops down to his knees.

“Hawke-” he’s cut off by his own sharp gasp when the man practically tears at his trouser laces, getting them loose without so much as a by your leave. 

“I,” he says as he finally pulls them open and frees Cullen’s cock from his smallclothes, “have wanted to put my mouth on you for an _ age_.” 

He looks up, licking his lips and Cullen can’t look away, any possible protest the furthest thing from his mind. Then the moment passes, and the head of his cock is engulfed by that mouth.

Both of Cullen’s hands instantly lock on the lip of his desk, squeezing for all he’s worth. 

Hawke feels amazing and the sight of him so willingly at his feet is enough to push Cullen to that edge far, far too quickly. “Wait, wait-” he chokes out. 

Hawke pauses immediately, looking up at him, and damn it all but he can feel his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Only his grip on the desk stops him from hiding his face away from sight. 

“If you keep doing that…” Cullen pauses, swallows as Hawke pulls his mouth gently away, even while his grip on Cullen’s trousers tightens. “I’m going to come far too quickly, I-” 

Maker, but he’d never actually seen a man’s pupils dilate so quickly. If not for that, he might believe Hawke’s cocky grin as Cullen continues to trip over his words. A breath. He leans down slightly, looking the mage in the eye.

“I want to peak with you inside me.”

Hawke’s throat clicks with his dry swallow, that roguish smile discarded as quickly as it came. 

It is a sign of how deeply Cullen’s trust has grown roots that, when Hawke’s fingers snap with magic, he flinches only the barest amount, more startled than fearful. Hawke absently pets his thigh with his free hand while the other cups around a palmful of golden oil. The mage tilts his hand slightly, letting it run over careworn, calloused fingers. 

Cullen bows down even further as Hawke reaches between his legs and rubs at his entrance, not once breaking eye contact. When the first finger pushes in, it is gentle but implacable, unhesitating. He shudders but holds still through a second finger. 

“Feel good?” his partner murmurs, and Cullen hums, trying to relax. But Hawke is right there, still looking, and every flex of his hand sends sparks skittering up Cullen’s spine. 

“More,” he bites out, hissing when Hawke curls his fingers and presses against his prostate hard. He moans when Hawke does it again, finally moving one hand from the desk to lean heavily on Hawke’s shoulder as the mage rocks his hand again. _ Maker_, but he can’t take much more of this. Only one thing to do. 

For once in his life, Hawke is obedient when Cullen shoves wordlessly at his shoulders, fingers sliding out without protest as he stands. Cullen kicks off his half-undone boots and shucks his trousers, and by the time he straightens, Hawke stands naked before him. 

This time he is allowed to look; he can trace the shape of firm pectorals, the thick hair over a gut only just beginning to soften the barest amount. There is one of many jagged scars, a wound that Hawke once explained he’d taken from the Arishok in his time when the qunari practically bisected him. 

_ In his time, when I was but a slave to my narrow perception of the world _. 

But no, that thought is not for here and now, not with Hawke pressing back against him, their bodies flush as he draws Cullen into another kiss. He lets those dark thoughts go, focusing on rough hands, firm but not bruising. For a moment they stay still, just pressing their lips together again and again until he feels about to shake apart with sheer anticipation. 

They shudder; a sigh against his mouth, and Hawke presses in. 

He’s infinitely grateful for Hawke’s steadying grip on his thigh, keeping him from collapsing as his back bows. _ Maker, it feels... _

Too soon, he’s drawing back, and Cullen sucks a breath to protest before there’s another snap of magic and oil dribbling over his cock as Hawke wraps his hand around it. Then he thrusts forward, driving the breath out of Cullen’s lungs in a shocked cry. The friction, that stretching pressure, is all too much too fast, but when he looks up Hawke is biting his lip almost bloody, obviously inches from the edge himself. 

He doesn’t even have to muster his courage, caught up in the mounting pressure as Hawke snaps their hips together again and again. 

“Haw- Garrett, love, come in me. Please,” he manages to get out. Hawke grunts, seeming lost for words, and then he’s hooking one elbow under Cullen’s knee, jerking him sharply until Cullen falls back on the desk. He gasps, but Hawke barely breaks rhythm, leaning over him and driving in with quick, frantic thrusts that push all remaining breath from his lungs. Cullen moans, high and sharp, trying his best to match Hawke’s beat. He loses track of time, focusing on building heat, so close to cresting- white heat sears across his vision as he keens, arches, and comes.

Hawke fucks him through it, and Cullen can barely hear his muttered, “Please, Cullen, please.”

With an effort, he clenches down Hawke jerks, lurching forward into Cullen until the pressure becomes too much, and though he can’t quite feel the spread of wet heat, the knowledge that it’s there is incentive enough for him to pull Hawke into a deep kiss.

The bristles of Hawke’s beard suddenly feel ten times rougher on his face, but Cullen can’t seem to care when the man is smiling too hard to even kiss him properly. 

“Maker, fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” Hawke whispers. “I feel like a cradle robber.”

Cullen blinks.

Hawke yelps a moment later, rubbing his smarting side where Cullen punched him. That he still takes the time to disengage smoothly tells Cullen everything he could need to know about the mage.

Still, his exasperation is real. “Don’t say things like that when you still have your cock in me,” he growls, rubbing at his–no doubt cherry-red–face.

Hawke guffaws, any pretense at injury forgotten when Cullen holds out a hand. He helps Cullen off the desk, but instead of moving away, he presses their lips together again, affectionate. His hand is warm folded around Cullen’s when they stop to look at each other, foreheads almost touching.

A breath. “Stay the night?” 

Hawke smiles. “Until dawn’s shift change, yeah.” 

They clean off with linens in the washbasin, then shuffle together in his narrow cot, Hawke’s arm a warm weight to keep him from falling off the edge. Fucked out and in love, Cullen Rutherford sleeps the night soundly, if not easily.

Tomorrow, they have a Grand Cleric to assassinate. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a ton of overarching ideas for this timetravel AU, but alas smut wins out ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> follow me on [tumblr](https://tsuraiwrites.tumblr.com)


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